|I'm spending enough time in L&D that I can|
just recycle the pictures from last time...
Before that I spent the morning back in Labor and Delivery, trying not to be annoyed with how my doctor's instructions of "not having contractions at all" fail to line up with the hospital policy of "well yes, you're dilating and effacing and having contractions but you aren't quite in active labor yet, because you aren't dilated enough, so you need to go home until you're dilating a centimeter every hour."
This is frustrating because it simply won't happen. After three c-sections my body doesn't seem to work that way anymore and even if they hooked me up to a pitocin drip for twenty four hours while having contractions every couple of minutes that are very, very real, I still wouldn't be making that sort of progress. Hence the need for a c-section.
It all started on Friday. Friday afternoon, after Mae and I got home from a super fun time at the autism lab at the university, in which she picked out her own pink shimmering outfit to wear over a Doc McStuffins sleeper (she was having a sensory sort of morning) and giggled and spoke and charmed everyone she met, we went to the store to pick up a few things before Paul went to work.
And the contractions suddenly decided to not only come every two minutes, lasting around a minute, but they were in the "on a scale of one to ten... definitely a nine... since I save tens for what happened when I was having Sadie and they accidentally turned the pitocin all the way on instead of off for the hour while we waited for an anesthesiologist... after the c-section had been ordered..." And they started when I was sitting down rather than coming on because I'd walked ten steps, like they usually do, which made me think we might be welcoming the baby a little bit sooner than we'd planned.
|(at least this time there was no IV)|
In labor and delivery we learned fun things like I had progressed since the Wednesday appointment and that I was now 50% effaced. But it wasn't enough to stay, so after turning down a shot of morphine, because I can't really imagine dealing with Mae and Patch under the influence of morphine and because I knew that Paul needed to get some time to sleep before going back to work, I went home, with instructions to try to lay down and not move "as much as possible" because everyone seemed to be able to tell that "as much as possible" wouldn't be all that much.
And it's true. If I lay perfectly still and no one touches me, I don't have regular contractions. If a toddler careens across the room and bumps into my stomach while I lay on the couch... contraction. If the baby on the inside moves... contraction. If Sadie comes over and hugs me... contraction. If I run down stairs to put laundry in the washer... contraction, contraction, contraction.
As you've probably guessed, I won't be making it to Mass or posting a WIWS picture today.
On the upside, we are at 37 weeks (and one day) now. If we do have to go in it's not the end of the world. On the other hand it's taking all of my self control not to get up and do the things that need to be done. So that's the latest. Waiting and wondering if baby boy is going to hold out for October, or pick a really great feast day (like maybe Michaelmas? Or beyond that the first week of October, which hold so many of my favorite saint days!). I should really put up one of those little polls for people to vote... if nothing else to alay the boredom of not being able to do much at all.